Interesting night
Sunday, May 28th, 2006Crutches, Severed knee, Stolen Stripper Dollar and pictures of self hiking on edge of cliff. These are the memorabilia of yesternight.
It all began with
“Hey, lets go to San Francisco!”.
Near 2 hours later, we’re in San Francisco with the driving clarity of a penis. We were searching for a strip bar.
With a vague idea of where the strip bar may be, we looked for parking. Mr Driver wasn’t too good with parallel parking, so I decided to get out the car to help him. I get to the front and then to the back to direct him.
With his car 2-5 ft in front of me, I asked him to reverse. But alas, pedal heavy friend decided to gas his car (parking uphill) and crushed my knee between two cars.
Yes. My knee was crushed between two cars and it was the most disgusting sight i’ve ever seen. I realised that his car had crushed my knee but felt hardly any pain at all, til I looked down. The car had climbed ONTO my knee, which meant that I couldn’t see below my knee and I thought my leg had fallen off. I scream, much like a 6 year old girl would if her leg had fallen off.
He moves forward and I collapse to the ground in pain. Within seconds I check whether i’m able to move my leg, I feel for any obvious broken bones, whether my knee felt like sponge. In horrific pain, I crawl to the curb to sit down and wonder why my friends are asking me to get into the car. Ah yes, they thought they hit the car behind us when really it was ME, between the car.
2 minutes later, I suck up the pain and go limping down the very very very steep hills of San Francisco. Knowing that adrenaline is keeping me from pain, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that i’m going to pay dearly for using my knee next orning.
We get to the Strip Joint. Crazy Horse - Gentlemen’s Club. I ask for the entrance fee, $25 - Cash only. I didn’t have any cash on me, but conveniently there is an ATM just a meter away from me. Of course convenience comes at a $5 fee withdrawal price. I pay with $40 and get $15 in dollar bills. How…gentlemanly.
After 3 hours of seeing more vaginas and fake breasts i’ve ever seen in life, there are several things i’ve learnt from strip clubs.
- A dollar goes a long way.
- There is not a single gentleman in the club.
- The lousy strippers have 2 moves. G-string anal floss move and doggy style with invisible man.
- There’s always one really ugly stripper that tries too hard.
- The strippers pry on men’s ego like hawks in order to earn a buck.
- Say NO to everything unless you’re Bill Gates.
- Fake titties do not look good.
- Not giving a stripper attention will make her give you MORE attention.
- The hot strippers have a bitchy attitude because they KNOW they got a good boob job. So don’t expect them to give you much action with that dollar you put down.
- News flash hot stripper - You’re on the pole. You may earn $300-$1300 a night, but I assure you, you’ve failed in life.
Needless to say, I didn’t have as much fun as I expected. Sitting down meant my body slowed down the pumping of adrenaline, and ignoring the strippers made one climb on top of me to breast smoosh my face, and another made me stand up (ouch) and doggy styled me while spanking my behind.
As dubious as it may sound, I didn’t get horny once that night. Knowing that I’m sitting on violated chairs and a room full of men (who by the way, have been there for HOURS. HOURS!) with hard penises didn’t do it for me….even with titties in my face. The fun of the entire night was the fact that one of the strippers reminded my friend of his mum and I stole a stripper dollar - just so could bring it up in a conversation one day. I paid her near $5 dollars (Usually people give $1-2 dollars per walk. It’s like on a runway) to violate him. He wanted to punch her in the nose.
The club closed at 3am, pain kicked in full blow and I limped my ass back to the car where we decided to watch the sun rise behind the Golden Gate Bridge (This is relatively close to where we were standing, except we were on the edge of a cliff…this was the beach below). Getting on to the cliff edge means a lot of hiking, and hiking with slippery shoes with a near broken knee and an ego is never a good combination.
I get to a clinic after I get back and the doctors all ask whether I visited an emergency room or iced it down at least. I figured if I told them I went hiking on the knee, they wouldn’t let me live it down, so I tell them that I slept it off. X-rays come out clean (for now) and I have to wait til my knee stops swelling for them to properly check the damage.
All this with no alcohol. Imagine the possibilities.
p.s will post photos up later
